


Love is a Beast Untamed

by PardonMyManners



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Dulmbledore will likely make an apperance, F/M, Romance, Some Leta/Newt full warning, because I can't write anything without making it at least a little angsty, its a problem, some queenie/jacob in the background, there's a chance this a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PardonMyManners/pseuds/PardonMyManners
Summary: Tina’s heart performed a traitorous leap in her chest as a mop-haired, quirkily handsome wizard clutching a very familiar suitcase smiled awkwardly up at her from the steps of The Regal Wizard's Hotel. 'Newt Scamander, Author of Bestselling Book on Magical Creatures, Arrives in New York', the headline read, each word causing her heart to sink lower and lower into her belly.
“Well, that’s what some might call fortuitous,” O’Conner said blandly, looking over her shoulder.
“Yeah,” Tina replied numbly, not thinking of the case or Grindelwald at all. “Fortuitous.”---Or, how a series of very unfortunate events bring Newt, Tina, Queenie, and Jacob back together again.





	1. Writing on the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Short chapter to start us out, expect longer installments in the future. What can I say other than I really liked the movie and I was in dire need of a new ship. Bit rusty on my Harry Potter fanfic writing skills, bear with me, it's been a solid ten-ish years.

 

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Porpentina,” a rotund woman said as she ushered a much slighter, younger woman out from beneath a massive marble hearth.

The younger woman straightened and brushed the ash from the shoulders of her sensible wool coat and removed her hat. Her short, dark hair was in some disarray and she absently patted it down. In her nondescript blouse and loose fitted slacks with reasonably heeled if not unfashionable boots, she gave the impression of a woman who did not care overly for appearances. She had a pleasant, though rather pale face, with dark, arresting eyes that gleamed with intelligence and wit.

“Tina, please, Head Mistress,” the younger woman said kindly.

The other woman, dressed in crisp navy and crimson robes with wild auburn hair piled atop her head, smiled and a dimple appeared in one round cheek. A gorgon-knot broach, set with a large ruby, clasped the woman’s robes above an expansive bosom, glinting in the torch light. Abigail Boot had been Head Mistress at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for nearly thirty-years. She’d also been something of a second mother to Tina in her early years at the school, which suddenly felt a very long time ago. 

Tina stepped further into the room and surveyed the circular office that was at once familiar and oddly foreign. The office was the same, she realized, it was she who was different. The thought made her sad.

A massive oak desk dominated nearly one half off the room and was cluttered with piles of books, scrolls, parchments, inkwells, quills and all manner of magical instruments, some familiar and some less so. A large portrait of a handsome man in a fine suit with a rather wicked smile commanded the wall behind the desk and he offered a slight wave in greeting.

“I wouldn’t have bothered the Head of the Auror department if it wasn’t absolutely necessary,” the Head Mistress said, guiding Tina gently toward a tall circular doorway where a massive clock hung above it, displaying the time, phases of the moons and planets, and the day and week of the month. A large fluffy black cat snored loudly from a small bed nearby, one blue eye blinking lazily open to survey them as they passed before closing once more, clearly uninterested in the late night visitor.

Tina smiled slightly in reassurance. “It’s no trouble, I assure you.” The smile faded quickly, however. “This is grave news indeed. You say there have been other instances?”

Head Mistress Boot sighed as she guided Tina into a large circular antechamber where four familiar statues stood. Tina’s eyes immediately darted to the sculpture for house Thunderbird, an unexpected pang of remembrance and longing flowering in her gut. She brushed the emotion aside. It had been nearly three years since a certain wizard and his suitcase of monsters and magical creatures had departed New York and she hadn’t heard from his since. Tina was nothing if she wasn’t sensible, and pining after a man who clearly thought nothing of her was utterly insensible.

“There have been six cases of vandalism in the past three months, but they seemed to be only school yard pranks. The sort of silly rebellious acts we see every year. I didn’t think it necessary to alert the Aurors… much to my shame,” Head Mistress Boot said, descending a flight of wide marble steps, her tone turning sour and bitter.

“Don’t blame yourself. These are dark and trying times for us all, Head Mistress. No one at M.A.C. questions that you are doing your very best.” Which wasn’t entirely true, but President Picquery had been quick to silence any nay-sayers.  Now was not the time for division and upheaval, the President had warned them with a razor sharp eye and a knowing, calculated gaze.

The Head Mistress held a door open at the end of the stair and offered a wane smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, my dear, but one of my students is gravely injured and one of our staff is dead. I have no one to fault but myself.”

Tina, feeling at a loss, said nothing.

They passed the four statues in silence and turned down the Charms corridor, which during the day was bright and lively, several stained glass windows painting the marble floors and walls in a bright array of shifting shapes and pictures. Tina could almost hear the echoes of laughter and half remembered conversations and an ache of longing for simpler times threatened to overwhelm her. Now was not the time for girlish fancy.

The castle was quiet and still, the students still abed, but two Aurors guarded the passage further down the hall with a collection of several Professors gathered nearby. Many of them were familiar to Tina, having taught her during her own years at school, and their expressions were grim. Tina felt oddly young and incompetent as they watched her approach and she straightened her shoulders in response –she was young to be head of the office, but after Graves’s highly publicized downfall, the Aurors had been purged and there had been few of them left who were trustworthy enough with the necessary experience to be considered. In truth, Tina had been nearly as shocked as everyone else when President Picuquery had announced she would be Graves’s permanent replacement. Tina had spent the last two and a half years trying to prove she was worthy of the position. She wasn’t entirely certain if she was succeeding or not.

“It’s bad, Goldstein,” Auror Devons said quietly as Tina neared, her long face solemn. “We’ve left the scene as is, figured you’d want a fresh take before we started clearing things away.”

Tina nodded. “Thank you, have you sent for MCSCUD? We’ll need to get everything cleaned up before morning.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good, you and Carver stay here please.”

Tina and Head Mistress Boot continued on down the passageway and stopped short as they rounded the corner. Despite being made aware of the circumstance beforehand, Tina only barely managed to contain her gasp of alarm and disgust.

From a candelabra, dangling by the ankle from a thick rope, hung a glassy eyed Pukwudgie.  Its gray skin was dull and lifeless and it’s partially extended quills gleamed in the flickering torchlight. From a long, angry gash across its throat droplets of blood trickled to the stones below. Behind the poor creature was a familiar triangular symbol and three words: _We will rise_. The symbol, one Tina had become very familiar with over the past few years, and the words were clearly written in blood.

“We’ve found the symbol drawn in several other locations about the school, as I told you, but never like this,” Mistress Boot said in a voice that quavered.   

“Where was the student found?” Tina asked numbly as she pressed forward, carefully avoiding the large puddle of blood, to study the writing on the wall. It shone faintly, indicating it was still relatively fresh. The irregularity of the writing and the telling whirls that she could decipher indicated that it had been done with a finger, most likely.

“Just below poor Rick there, knife in hand. We believe the poor girl was cursed, forced to commit the deed. She was born to No-Maj parents, you see, a very sweet girl, well liked and one of the top in her class…”

“You believe she was targeted for her heritage?” Tina supplied, her mind racing. She’d thought the rise in anti-No Maj sentiments had been on the decline. How could someone have infiltrated Ilvermorny? Perhaps no one had, perhaps the vestiges of Grindelwald’s cultists, whom Tina had tirelessly tried to eradicate, had reached some of the students. Tina wasn’t sure which prospect was worse.

“Considering the growing unrest and the rise of violent No Maj ideals,” Head Mistress Boot murmured, “it seems very likely.”

Tina had to agree, though she said nothing as she moved to study the Pukwudgie. A clean even slice across the throat, likely performed by a sharp blade. At least the poor thing had died quickly. Tina pressed the tip if her wand to the creature's temple and managed to extract a bit of memory. Hopefully it would be enough to give her some clue, some hint as to which direction she ought to head down.

“Is the student awake?” Tina asked, stepping away.

“Not last I checked. She was deeply addled, hardly aware of who she was or where. We fear there may be permanent damage.”

Tina nodded stowing her wand and considering her options. “Who found her, the girl and the Pukwudgie, that is?”

“Another student, the girl’s beau, we think. Poor thing, beside himself with worry,” Head Mistress Boots related sadly, producing a handkerchief to dab at the corners of her eyes.

“I would like to speak to him, if that is alright? And examine or speak to the girl as soon as she is able.”

Head Mistress Boots sniffled, composing herself. “Of course, though I must alert their parents straight away.”

Tina sighed, wishing she could argue but knowing it would be fruitless. A headache was beginning to blossom behind her left eye and she rubbed at her temple in a vain attempt to stave it off. “Of course, of course, but we must try to contain the story, Head Mistress, we don’t want to cause unnecessary panic.”

The other woman frowned. “It hardly seems unnecessary, but I understand your point. We will attempt to treat the matter delicately.”

Tina nodded. “Thank you, I assure you I am – the entire Auror office, that is, will take this matter very seriously.” She placed a hand hesitantly on Head Mistress Boot’s shoulder, recalling all the words of comfort the older woman had offered Tina when she’d first entered the school, sick with grief. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”

Head Mistress Boot patted Tina’s hand with a grateful smile. “Thank you, my dear. I have the utmost confidence in you. Your mother would have been very proud.”

Embarrassed –emotions were Queenie’s forte—Tina removed her hand and turned back down the hall just as the sound of rushing footsteps reached them.

Tina frowned. “That must be MCSCUD, if you’ll show me-” She broke off as Larry O’Conner, her second in command, appeared, winded and pale as he skid to a stop.

“O’Conner, what-“ she managed before he took her roughly, and very unprofessionally, by the arm and pulled her aside.

“I’ve just come from the President’s office, he’s-he’s escaped,” O’Conner told her in a great rush, his face very close to hers.  He was a tall man, with fair hair and bright green eyes. Handsome, if she were being honest with herself. He practically loomed over her.

Tina felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. “Who?” she asked, though in her heart she already knew.

O’Conner swallowed thickly. “Grindelwald. Grindelwald has escaped.”

* * *

 

Newt took a deep breath and tried to convince himself that giving a speech before a crowd of his fellow witches and wizards was nowhere near as terrifying as facing a herd of Erumpent females in heat. He wasn’t very successful.

“And now to introduce the man of the hour,” came the muffled voice of Mr. Bolt through the heavy stage curtain. “Who’s book, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ has become an instant success. Please welcome, Mr. Newt Scamander!”

Applause broke out and Newt instantly began to sweat and felt very like he might faint as his newly appointed assistant, Miss. Variety Pots, shoved him gently forward with a roll of her eyes. Newt stumbled, righted himself, and was instantly blinded by several bright lights that seemed to be pointed directly into his eyes. Mr. Bolt -presumably as Newt was momentarily blinded- grabbed him by the arm and led him toward the center of the stage.

The applause petered to a stop and Newt awkwardly tugged his speech, written on a stained bit of parchment, from the pocket of his best suit. A suit which was several seasons out of fashion, as Miss Pots had informed him sourly.

Newt glanced at the crowd, realizing immediately what a terrible mistake that was, and began to read his carefully prepared speech.

“Ah hum, thank you, everyone, for your interest in my work and book. I am, er, greatly honored by your patronage and support. _Fantastic Beasts_ has truly been a labor of love, and educating my esteemed colleges and fellow wizards about the creatures whom share our world has been a life time passion,” Newt paused and cleared his throat, the blood rushing loudly in his ears. “I would like to thank Misters Bolt and Flourish for their support and for publishing my book, as well my family for  financing my expeditions, and all of you for your interest in my work. Ah, thank you very much.”

Newt gave an odd little bow and turned on his heel, quickly leaving the stage to a smattering of uncertain applause.

Off stage, Mr. Bolt drew him aside and sighed. “One would think, Mr. Scamander, that after several months of touring, you would have improved in the area of public speaking.”

Newt ducked his head and flushed as he was led -dragged really- toward a table laden with several hundred books. His hands immediately began to ache at the thought of signing so many books. “Yes, quite. Sorry to disappoint.”

Mr. Bolt smiled the smile of a man attempting to make-do with something that was clearly less than satisfactory.  “No matter, I’m sure you’ll do better on your trip to America.”

Newt stumbled slightly. “A-America? I thought, the sales-“

“Have recently taken off,” Mr. Bolt interrupted cheerfully. “Surprising really. Americans aren’t much for British wizarding books or novels, think highly of themselves that lot. _Too_ highly if you ask me. Surely Miss. Pots told you?”

Newt shook his head dumbly, a very particular face prominent in his mind.

“Ah well, no matter. You’re to leave the day after next. I assume that will be feasible?” Mr. Bolt continued in a tone that assured Newt that it mattered very little whether or not the time frame was ‘feasible.’

Newt had been utterly unprepared for the fame that accompanied the publishing of his book. He’d hoped for, at most, some scholarly recognition, a tiny bit of appreciation and understanding from others in his field. The utter insanity that his life had become, however, had entirely blindsided him.

A door was opened and a crowd of people rushed into the room, forming a winding que in front the table. Newt barely managed to contain a childish groan of misery as several women gasped and squealed as they caught sight of him. Mr. Bolt all but shoved him into a chair, placed a quill in his hand, and Newt’s world narrowed to a sea of changing faces and instantly forgotten names.

America, he thought distantly as he signed his name for the hundredth, possibly thousandth time, finally I can…

He shook his head, banishing his dangerous, honestly pathetic train of thought. Surely she would no longer wish to see him, not after so much time had passed. Not after it had taken him so long to fulfill his promise. No, he was being entirely foolish, which did nothing to banish the sudden fluttering sensation in his chest as he remembered the darkness of her eyes and the sound of her voice. Merlin, he was a fool. Maybe, if he was very lucky, she would agree to see him again-

“I am so very proud of you Newt,” a voice said, drawing him from his musings. He knew that voice. Newt’s heart flipped and then fell somewhere into the vicinity of his boots as he looked up and wondered if perhaps he had fainted after all.

After so many years of silence, she wouldn’t, she couldn’t…

She smiled a little, a small upturn of full, delicate lips that was so familiar that it felt like a physical wound in his breast. How often had he once dreamed of that smile? Imagined those lips? The curve of her cheek? Why now, after he’d finally resolved himself, after he’d finally convinced himself she was well and truly lost to him-

“Leta?” he croaked, part of him elated at the prospect and the other part wishing she would turn around and leave at once.

“Hello Newt,” she said carefully and proffered a book - _his_ book- in one pale, dainty hand. “Will you sign this for me?”

 

 


	2. Shadows and Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Some graphic depictions of violence in this chapter. Kind of a dark one, but I hope you enjoy. Really appreciate all the feedback, I'm really enjoying writing this story so far. :)

True to her nature, Queenie was waiting for Tina when she finally arrived back home what felt like days, possibly years later. The pretty, golden haired witch was armed with fresh tea and Tina’s favorite turkey and carrot pie. 

With a wave of her wand, Tina banished coat and hat, kicked off her shoes, and then collapsed into a chair at the dining table, trying very hard not to cry. It had easily been the longest day of her life and a strange numbness had begun to creep in about the edges of her consciousness. 

"It wasn't your fault, Teenie," Queenie said softly, petting Tina’s hair with a gentle hand. 

Tina scoffed and sniffled miserably. "If not mine than who's?" 

She still couldn't wrap her mind around what had happened, the awful, terrible truth of it. He was gone, well and truly gone, and she hadn't the faintest clue as to where he had gone or even where to start looking. The most dangerous wizard in the world had slipped through their - _her_ \- fingers, and she had no idea how he’d managed it.

Queenie sighed, radiating sympathy, and sat on the table beside her, drawing Tina into a tight hug that she almost pushed away from before collapsing into. Her sister smelled of lavender and freshly laundered clothes, reminding Tina strongly of their mother. 

"You think you missed something, or someone," Queenie said after a long moment, reading Tina's mind in that quiet, careful way she had. "A traitor in MACUSA."

"Someone let him out, so far as we can tell," Tina said, voice muffled by her sister's bosom. "He, or his accomplices, killed a pair of guards and three Aurors. There are no witnesses left alive. None. Billingsley, you know the one who just had a son-"

"Shh," Queenie soothed sternly. "Don't go torturing yourself for things that weren't your doing. The only one to be blamed for the killing is the one who done it."

Tina pulled away, near dead on her feet with exhaustion. She felt utterly drained, a limp, useless husk of a person. The President herself had had to order Tina to go home, threatening to bewitch her if necessary. She'd seriously considered mutiny but O'Conner, wavering where he stood and clearly unwilling to leave until she did, convinced her to take at least a few hours to collect herself. Part of her was afraid that if she stopped, she wouldn't be able to start up again. 

Glancing at the clock above the stove, Tina realized she only had a few hours before she'd have to give a statement before the entirety of Congress and the press.  Tears, born of frustration and weariness more than anything else, welled. 

"You need the Special Tea," Queenie announced and immediately started bustling around the kitchen. 

Tina groaned. "You know how I hate that stuff, Queenie."

"It'll help you rest. No complaints, young lady, now eat your food."

Tina dutifully complied, aware this was not an argument she would win -Queenie could be damned stubborn when she wanted to be. Each fork full felt like twenty pounds, however, and the pie tasted like saw dust in her mouth, but she managed to eat half the pie before she gave up. The image of Billingsley's wife collapsing on her knees by his body kept playing over and over again in her mind, the sound of her wails like a record needle caught in a scratch. It felt like her fault. It felt like something she might have prevented if she'd been paying more attention. Surely there had been signs, warnings-

"Enough of that now," Queenie admonished gently, a mug of tea in hand. "You'll drive yourself mad thinking like that."

Tina numbly accepted the steaming cup of something that smelled very like shoe polish, and downed it as quickly as possible. She only gagged once, which she felt was something of an accomplishment. Almost instantly her muscles loosened and her headache, which had become a near constant throb as the miserable evening and day had progressed, dulled. 

Queenie beamed at her, clearly smug with success, and ushered her into bed. Tina felt a bit silly, like a child who needed tucking in, but her sister's presence was calming and reassuring. 

"You know you can depend on me, Teenie," Queenie said and kissed her on the cheek as she pulled the covers up and under Tina's chin. "It's going to be alright, I can feel it."

Tina smiled a little, comforted by the fact that Queenie's 'feelings' had a habit of being right. One day, one moment at a time, and she would see her way through, just as she always had. 

She slept and dreamt of a man in a blue coat with wild hair, pulling her by the hand down a never ending tunnel, a pin prick of light before them and something dark and insidious snapping at their heels. 

* * *

 

When being kind, people would often describe Newt as a man of few words. In the case of his elder brother, however, he would describe Newt as 'emotionally and verbally constipated,” generally while laughing at his younger brother’s discomfort. Newt, for his part, merely felt that actions spoke far louder than words.

People, in Newt’s experience, had a habit of saying one thing and doing another, which was yet another reason he generally preferred beasts to members of his own species. Still, he occasionally found himself wishing he possessed at least an idiom of charm or some small gift of speech, some way of expressing those feelings or thoughts he couldn't quite manage to articulate.

A wish that was presently at the forefront of his mind. 

"What are you doing here, Leta?" Newt finally managed, a pot of steaming tea between them as they sat at a crooked table in his small one room, messy flat. Leta, in her fine dress of white and lace, her dark hair coiled artfully atop her head, looked like a delicate, misplaced doll as she sipped carefully from her chipped tea cup. 

Her face was sad, forlorn even. She’d hardly spoken a word since she’d asked, after the book signing, if she might have a word with him, somewhere private. He'd been at a near loss of words, not that that was terribly surprising. "Newt, I-I am, well, I am in desperate need of your help."

Newt swallowed, not at all sure what to think. It had been nearly ten years since he’d seen her, ten long years of near utter silence. He’d seen her once at a fancy party his father had managed to drag him to, but only at a distance before she was taken away. "Isn't that what your husband is for?" he blurted before he could think better of it.

Tears immediately sprung to Leta's eyes and Newt felt like an utter cad. He was entirely out of practice when it came to relating to other humans let alone those of the, ah, fairer sex. It was so odd to think they had once been as close as one breath, that she’d been his dearest friend, his confidant, and was now a near total stranger to him.  Newt mentally girded his loins. "Leta, Merlin, I'm sorry I-I'm just surprised to see you, a-after-"

"I know,” she interrupted tearfully, “I have been the worst of friends, and after everything you did for me," she gushed, the tears slipping from her eyes somehow only adding to her beauty. "I ought to have listened to you all those years ago when Mummy made the match. I should have run away, gone on your adventures with you, but I was afraid, you know how my father is-"

Newt set his hand awkwardly atop hers, flushing a bit. "Hush, now, it was a foolish suggestion made by a foolish young man." Recalling that night, the night she’d told him of her impending marriage, the night he’d begged her to come away with him, was a wound that stabbed deep, old and scabbed over but now rubbed raw. His heart had been well and truly broken that night.

His words, intended to comfort, seemed to have quite the opposite effect as a fresh wave of tears slipped from beneath her long lashes. A lacy handkerchief materialized from her dress to dab at her eyes a moment before Leta swatted it away.

“It was me who was young and foolish. I thought my parents knew what was best for me, that they had my best interests at heart. But you were right about everything, Newt. Thadius is, well he-“ Leta, at this point, broke into sobs, snatching the kerchief out of the air to shield most of her face.

Feeling a cold well of anger blossom within him, Newt rose and came to kneel uncertainly beside her, gently taking her hand in his.

“H-has he hurt you, Leta?” he asked, blood near boiling at the thought. Newt was not known for his temper, but the thought of a man, any man, laying a hand on Leta –or any woman really- in anger was unthinkable to him.

Leta sniffled and shook her head, not meeting his eye as she said, “N-No, though he is often cruel with his words and is terribly controlling. I’m hardly ever let outside the manor alone while _he_ is gone for days, weeks, sometimes months at a time. I-I suspect, no, I am _certain_ he has been unfaithful. All the other ladies whisper about it, mocking me and laughing at me. Saying my inability to bear children has driven him away, made him unkind, but he was always unkind-“ she broke off, sobbing anew, and Newt wasn’t sure what to think.  It hurt him to think of her so lonely, so sad, but he had no idea how he might help her, what he should say.

“I’m sorry, Leta,” he said at last, squeezing her hand in his. “Had I known, I might have- well, you certainly deserve far better.”

She sniffled and gave him a watery smile. “Always so kind, Newt. I have missed you desperately these past years. I wrote you so many letters, but I was never quite brave enough to send them. I thought, after everything that had happened… you wouldn’t wish to see or hear from me ever again,” she said, squeezing his hand in turn and making his heart lurch.

“It’s, well, it’s in the past now," he said through a lump in his throat. "But, Leta, I leave for America tomorrow, I don’t know how I can help you or what-“

Leta’s eyes brightened and she turned fully toward him. “America? Oh how exciting! I have never been, though I have heard it is a lovely place to visit. Mightn’t I go with you? Oh please let me go with you!”

Newt, rather astonished by the suggestion, rose to his feet, gently extracting his hand from hers. “Leta, I-I’m not sure that would be a-appropriate, surely-“

Anger darkened her gaze and she shot to her feet, pacing away from him. “I will not go back to that-that _cad_ , Newt. Do you understand? If you will not take me to American with you I will find someone else to take me in. I haven’t many friends but I will not, I swear I will _not_ return to that dark, frozen manor.”

Newt’s chest tightened with sympathy and he shoved a hand through his hair, feeling at a loss. She had been his friend once, his _only_ friend if he were being entirely honest. He’d once fancied himself in love with her, even, he'd thought perhaps he’d found the one person in all the world who didn’t think him a madman. But, what she was asking- “Won’t your husband coming looking for you, Leta?” he asked carefully as she stood with her back to him, looking out one dusty window. His flat was cluttered, rarely slept in, and she seemed very out of place within it.

Leta turned toward him, face the picture of set determination. “He’s away on business for at least a month, likely two, so he’ll hardly notice, and by that time I’ll have settled my affairs and he’ll have no say in the matter.”

Newt thought that last bit was rather unlikely but said nothing as she rushed forward and took his hands in hers, eyes pleading. “Oh please, Newt, take me to America with you. I need to get away, collect myself as it were, and then I shall be out of your hair, alright?”

Newt could feel himself giving in. He’d never been the sort of person to send someone, whether they be man or beast, away when they were in need. And this was Leta Lestrange, the only person who’d ever understood him.

Tina’s face briefly and suddenly came to mind. A glimmer of possibility had simmered between them, an understanding born of shared fear and experience. He’d never met a braver person, man or woman, but it had been years since they’d spoken, since he’d seen her, and besides, it wasn’t as if Leta and he were running away to be together. He wasn’t at all certain that was even what he wanted anymore, though it had once been the dearest wish of his heart.

Newt closed his eyes for a moment in a vain effort to still his rampant thoughts, then opened them and said. “Very well, but you’ll need to stay out of sight of the press, alright?”

Leta’s face broke into a brilliant smile as she launched herself into his arms, taking poor Newt entirely off-guard. Wrapping her in an uncertain hug, he had the distinct feeling that Leta Lestrange was about to upend his life once again. 

* * *

 

Tina scrubbed a hand down her face and sighed. She felt as though she'd taken several bludgers to the face and had a few shots of Firewhiskey for good measure. Press meetings always left her feeling hungover and bruised, but this one had been particularly bad. O'Conner leaned against the desk beside her, a silent sentinel in a black coat, staring out the window of her office with his brow creased in thought. 

"It had to have been someone higher up," he said after a long and heavy silence. 

"Yes," Tina agreed quietly. Her morning coffee had formed a pit of bubbling lava in her belly, acidic and hot as it caught in her throat. 

"Leaves us what, ten, maybe fifteen suspects?"

"Something like that." Tina twirled a quill absently between her fingers. Her mind felt jumbled, like a mirror with a growing crack that had begun to splinter.

"Hey," O'Conner said, placing a warm and heavy hand on her shoulder. Tina nearly flinched at the contact. She wasn't particularly used to being touched, especially by men. She tried very hard not to think of the last time Larry had touched her, but she was certain her cheeks had gone a traitorous shade of pink. "We'll get through this, alright? We just have to keep our heads screwed on straight."

Tina took a breath and nodded, offering him a wavering smile. "Right, sorry, just a bit out of sorts after this morning."

"You did great," O'Conner assured her with an answering smile, patting her lightly before removing his hand. Her shoulder felt cold where he’d touched her. "Better than I could have done, that's for damn sure. People are scared, it'll get better as soon as we have some answers."

"I don't want to start throwing accusations around," she warned. "Besides, if there really is someone else on the inside, someone at the top, we need to be very careful."

"We need to throw them off our scent, you mean."

Tina nodded and stood, waving her wand toward her coat that floated across the room and she slipped her arms through the sleeves. She pulled a small glowing vial from her pocket. "Was thinking of heading to Digit's to have a look at this, you coming?"

O'Conner smirked, white teeth glinting as he ducked into his hat. "Do you have to ask?"

* * *

 

Digit's was located in a rather drab No Maj housing district that no respectable wizard ever visited. The streets smelled of horse dung and people lived all but stacked atop one another in crumbling homes and buildings. It always made Tina feel rather sad and vaguely ashamed, as if she should be doing something somehow, something to help. Sometimes she wondered what the point of magic was if you couldn’t help those who needed it most.

Avoiding the gaze of several rough looking men, Tina ducked her head into the collar of her coat and hurried down a narrow alley that ended in a high brick wall. O'Conner cast a wary eye about them before nodding and tapping on a loose brick that hung part free at about eye level. 

The brick wiggled and shifted before snapping back into place and creating a ripple effect, like a pond after casting a stone into it, and a wooden door appeared. Tina pressed her wand to the door and whispered, "Picuquery's Knickers," and O'Conner snorted as the door swung inward.

Tina elbowed him slightly as they slipped hurriedly inside. 

The room within was dimly lit and smelled of cigar smoke, floo powder, and cheap cologne. It was long and lined with curtain portioned rooms. A goblin in a fine pink dress and curly purple hair scowled at them from behind a raised podium near the door. Digit's wasn't precisely illegal, but every few months their office would stage a raid or two to ensure nothing dangerous and truly elicit was going on.

"Aurors, eh?" the goblin sneered, taking a long drag from a cigarette as she looked them up and down. "Suppose we all have our kinks."

Tina rolled her eyes and slapped two silver Dragots onto the podium. "We won't need long."

The goblin winked and cackled. "I'm sure you won't dearie, you and your man enjoy and be sure to clean up after yourselves. You can take room fifteen, down at the end there." She waved one short, rather hairy arm vaguely down the length of the room.

Tina blushed despite herself and couldn't quite meet O'Conner's eye as she led him down the hall. 

They'd had a moment once, a year or so back, a moment that subtly but undeniable shifted something between them and it was one she couldn't help but think of suddenly.

They'd been working a case, trying to ferret out a group of Grindelwald supporters who'd staked claim to an underground club in Chicago, and it had been a long week of late nights and endless days that had worn them both down. Tina had been close to making a breakthrough, desperate to connect the dots before another hapless No Maj had been lured into another trap, but she hadn't been quite able to get past some mental block in her mind. O'Conner had talked her into getting some dinner, maybe a drink or two, and before she'd known it she was a few sheets to the wind. O'Conner had gallantly escorted her home and Tina had embarrassed herself by spilling the sad and pathetic tale of Newt Scamander, who had somehow managed to break her heart -just a little. He'd listened attentively, kindly, and then he'd kissed her outside her building, carefully and deliberately. Then he'd left her there, stunned and wavering in the lantern light of the doorway and they'd never spoken of it. 

Sometimes Tina wondered if she'd dreamed it but occasionally she'd catch him watching her with a strange and intense look in his eyes that made her cheeks heat. Tina, quite frankly, wasn't sure how she felt about it, whatever _it_ was. Men, romance, _flirting_ , had never been something she excelled at, not like Queenie who could charm a room with a glance and a smile. 

Clearing her throat, Tina held the curtain of their designated room aside and O'Conner removed his hat and stepped past her. She couldn't quite tell, what with the lighting so dim, but she could have sworn his cheeks were a little brighter than the chill outside accounted for. Tina ducked in after him, mentally chastising herself for behaving like an innocent little girl, and drew the vial from her pocket. 

Beyond the curtain was a room much larger than the outside indicated, with a large bed strewn with red-velvet sheets and pillows sewn with chipped pearls and crystals. A brass bathtub with the paint wearing off the clawed feet took up the other half of the room and between the tub and the bed were two shelves full of vials similar to the one she held in her hand but with far more illicit memories within them -if the labels on each were any indication. The room was near covered in a variety of mirrors that had been enchanted to behave much like a pensive might, a clever little trick that the goblins horded as closely as they horded their gold. The Auror Office at MACUSA had pensives, of course, but considering the implications of the breakout and who may have been involved, Tina was hesitant to draw attention to her investigation. 

"You always take me to the classiest places, Goldie," O'Conner joked, tossing his hat onto the bed and smoothing a hand over his lightly oiled hair that gleamed golden in the light from the gaudy chandelier above him. 

Tina felt herself color a bit and rolled her eyes. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?" she said primly and selected a large mirror off the nightstand and reluctantly took a seat on the bed when she realized the room was completely devoid of chairs. 

O'Conner sat beside her, apparently unperturbed by their circumstances, and held one half of the gold framed mirror that she was trying very hard to forget was used for a much different purpose. Clearing her throat yet again, Tina uncorked the vial that contained the memories of the Pukwudgie and poured them carefully on the mirror. The glass immediately began to glow and absorbed the silvery liquid, causing the mirror to ripple. 

O'Conner shot her an encouraging smile before immersing his head in the glass. Steeling herself, Tina followed suite. 

Blinking Tina found herself with O'Conner in a dark corridor, lit only by a single flickering torch. The Charms hall at Ilvermorny, there was no mistaking it. Rick, the Pukwudgie, spines retracted, was humming a broken little tune to himself as he fussed with a crooked candelabra mounted on the wall.  He was entirely alone and the hallway was utterly silent, that is, until, a soft shuffling came from the darkness further down.

The Pukwudgie froze and turned. “That you, Dora?” the creature asked in a voice like a growl. “Could use some help with this hall, some of the students knocked the fixtures all wonky again.”

There was no response, only darkness and more shuffling, causing the hair to rise at the back of Tina’s neck. The Pukwudgie bristled uncertainly, spines protruding from its back slightly and poking through its uniform of navy and crimson.

“D-Dora? Uh, Burt, is that you?” the poor creature called, squinting into the darkness. Still no response, but a shape began to form in the shadows of the hall, hunched and lumbering awkwardly. The Pukwudgie took an uncertain step backward.

“Students aren’t allowed to be out of bed,” the creature said in a stern voice that wavered uncertainly, “you need to return to your dormitory at one-“

Tina flinched as the creature was flung backward against the wall, and she grasped O’Conner instinctively by the arm as a girl, dressed in a pale blue nightdress with long brown hair shuffled into the torchlight. Her head hung low, hair shielding much of her face, and her bare feet dragged across the stones. One hand was stretched straight out before her, hand curled into a distorted claw. At first, Tina thought the torchlight was creating shadows on the girl’s skin, but after a moment she realized the shadows were _inside_ her skin.

The Pukwudgie, winded and addled, attempted to rise to its feet, fear making it tremble even as the quills at its back began to lengthen as did it's snout, clearly a weak attempt to transform and save itself.

“Please-“ it begged before the girl snapped her wrist to the side and lifted the poor creature into the air, a rope appearing round it’s ankle and securing to the candelabra above. For the first time, Tina noticed the knife, glinting cold and deadly, in the girl’s other hand.

“What-“ O’Conner wondered in shock, but Tina silenced him, attempting to absorb every detail despite how deeply disturbing she found the scene.

The Pukwudgie began to struggle and the vision within the mirror began to waver as the creature's consciousness drifted precariously. Tina forced herself to draw closer as the girl closed in on the small, feebly kicking creature, raising the jagged edged knife. The girl’s head lifted as she pressed the knife to the creature’s flesh, and as she drew the blade slowly, almost casually across it's throat, Tina saw that the girl’s eyes were wide pools of swirling shadows. As the Pukwudgie’s life slowly began to drain away, causing the mirror to grow increasingly dark around the edges, Tina watched as the girl dipped her fingers in the growing puddle of blood, and began sculpting her message with horrible indifference. Right before the memory went entirely black, Tina saw the girl collapse and something dark, smoky, and horribly familiar slip from between her lips and slither through a crack in the wall.

 

* * *

 

Newt was almost sad his second arrival in New York wasn't via boat but rather portkey. He would have liked to see the docks again; take in the smells, the noise, the memories-

"Remind me again why we couldn't Apparate to America," Leta groused in a pleasant enough voice, attempting to right her disheveled hair and coat in a subtle and lady-like manner. 

Newt mussed his hair, certain it was beyond help as Miss Pots ushered them further into The Regal Wizard's Hotel. "It requires a special permit, I'm afraid Miss Scamander, one that can take several weeks to be granted," Miss Pots informed them primly as she waved her wand and their luggage trailed after her. 

“Of course,” Leta said blandly as they emerged from the little sitting room into a large and impressive entryway, complete with winding staircase and a massive front desk made of marble that featured a rather bored looking goblin stationed behind it. Clusters of wizards in fine robes gathered in odd corners talking and laughing as trays of tea and other refreshments floated between them. It was all a bit much for Newt, who was used to far more... economic lodgings, but Leta seemed pleased as she removed her hat and gazed about them with a smile.

Miss Pots checked them in and a pair of house elves collected their baggage. “I’ve managed to secure you and your cousin a set of rooms next to one another, Mr. Scamander,” the pretty witch informed him, handing him a set of brass keys.

“Ah, thank you very much, Miss Pots,” he said, feeling himself flush. Leta had not been terribly pleased at his insistence that she pose as one of his relatives, but Newt felt it very important that he protect her good name as best he could. And perhaps he also meant to put a bit of distance between them, at least while he sorted out his thoughts and feelings.  

The slight red-haired witch nodded and said, “You’ve a book signing tomorrow morning, don't forget, and then a meeting with several interested American publishers followed by a dinner with the Secretary of Magical Creatures.”

Newt, feeling a tad overwhelmed, said, “Ah, right, very good.”

Miss Pots gave a small bow, clearly ready to be rid of him. “I will see you bright and early then, I wish the both of you a good night.”

“Ah yes, you too,” he offered to her departing back.

As she left, Leta hooked her arm through his and guided him up the grand stair after their luggage. “I still can’t believe you really did it, Newt. You’re a famous researcher and author, just like you always dreamed.”

Newt ducked his head. “A Magizoologists, actually, and I didn’t dream of fame or anything of that sort… I merely hoped my work might help protect more magical creatures from poaching or outright killing.” Fame, in fact, was the unfortunate and unwelcome consequence, he mused.

Leta smiled a soft rather distant smile as a house elf ushered them into a lift and they lurched upwards. “Of course, of course, I only meant that it’s wonderful to know you are finally being appreciated for your work is all.” Newt smiled in turn, pleased at the compliment.

The house elf led them down a long hallway artfully decorated in hues of red and gold that reminded Newt strongly of Gryffindor. It made him feel oddly homesick. Memories of Hogwarts would always be bitter sweet, however.

 Leta hesitated outside her room, hand on the knob. “Will I see you for dinner, then?” she asked, clearly hopeful.

Newt gave her a slight smile, suddenly very tired and thinking rather longingly of a nap. “Yes, of course, around six perhaps?”

Leta beamed, her cheeks coloring prettily. “Wonderful, I shall see you then,” she said, before disappearing into her room.

Newt lingered for a moment in the hall, wondering when his life had become so unfamiliar to him, before entering his own lavish set of rooms. He sighed, reminded unpleasantly of his room back at his parent’s manor house, and tugged his bow-tie loose and set his briefcase on the bed. The case wriggled ominously and he patted the top of it with a bemused smile.

“I’ll be down in a bit, Alfred, calm down,” he said, sitting on the bed for a moment.

There was a faint, rather petulant whine from within the case as Newt set about unpacking his things from a worn leather traveling bag his mother had given him nearly ten years ago. His hand paused over a finely bound copy of his book, the cover a rich red leather with gold leaf engravings. The first of his books to ever be published, in fact. He removed it carefully and flipped to the front page where two words were scrawled.

_Dear Tina…_

It was as far as he’d gotten and he’d been carrying the book around with him for the past five months trying to find the right words to finish what he'd started. He never seemed to know the right words, unfortunately, and nothing seemed quite adequate when attempting to express his gratitude to her, his heartfelt regard for her…Newt sighed, collapsing on the bed again and wondering idly what she was doing in that moment, if she ever thought of him. Foolish really -why would she? He’d been little more than a thorn in her side since the moment they’d met.

He looked back down at the book, thinking of that day on the docks before he’d left, recalling her smile and her surprising tears. More surprising, however, was the sudden and powerful well of affection he’d felt for her in that moment, his hesitance to leave. Somewhere along the way Porpentina Goldstein had become important to him, finding her way under his skin and into his heart without his noticing. He’d wanted to kiss her then, which had alarmed him considerably, and he’d nearly done it too but, well, lack of experience was a powerful deterrent. Besides it hadn’t felt quite right, not in that moment at least. Still, he’d spent a fair amount of time since kicking himself for the missed opportunity.

“Merlin, Scamander, pull yourself together,” he mumbled, throwing the book to the bed beside him and falling backward, staring blankly up at the frescoed ceiling above.

He’d made Tina a promise, he reminded himself firmly, and he intended to keep it. He’d find her as soon as he could, maybe tomorrow afternoon if he could manage it. He owed her that much, at the very least. 

* * *

 

"Alright, Devons, Carver, Hobs and Tully, you cover the west side of town, question everyone, even the house elves. Bradbury, Gardner, and Quintero, you three check out Misty's, I want to know if anyone suspicious has recently boarded there and see if Misty knows anything. She tends to have an ear to the ground about most things," Tina said from the front of the bullpen, a large room with several rows of tables and chairs, her hands braced on the pulpit. "Any questions?" Silence and the sound of shuffling feet. "Alright then, get to it."

Everyone stood, muttering a little as they left and Tina ran a hand through her hair. O'Conner was waiting by the door for her, hat spinning in his hand, an encouraging smile tugging up one corner of his mouth.

“So,” he said as he followed her out of the room and into the bustling hall, “Where does that leave you and me?”

Tina sighed, sipping from the mug of coffee she urged out of her pocket with her wand. “Well, the girl at Ilvermorny is awake and we really ought to interview her as soon as possible, now that we’ve got permission from her parents, see if there is anything she remembers.”

“You’re certain the two cases are related then?”

Tina smirked humorlessly. “Come on, O’Conner, you don’t believe in coincidence any more than I do. I’m almost certain the incident at Ilvermorny was meant to be a distraction or maybe a message of some sort. Likely both.”

O’Conner nodded, looking rather grim. “And about what we saw at Digit’s…”

Tina shivered despite herself. “I’m not even sure where to start,” she confessed quietly, not wishing to be overheard. “There aren’t many, if any experts who could help us. It’s not precisely an area of magic that one can easily study.” She couldn’t help but recall the swirling shadows in the girl’s eyes and the black smoke like substance that had escape her once she’d slit the Pukwudgie’s throat.  Just another nightmare to keep Tina awake at night.

Devons, passing them by with a newspaper in hand, stopped suddenly and turned to Tina with an odd look on her face. “Hey boss, ain’t this that strange fellow you worked with back, well, you know…” the other woman trailed off awkwardly as she handed Tina a page from the _New York Phoenix._

Tina’s heart performed a traitorous leap in her chest as a mop-haired, quirkily handsome wizard clutching a very familiar suitcase smiled awkwardly up at her from the steps of The Regal Wizard's Hotel. _Newt Scamander, Author of Bestselling Book on Magical Creatures, Arrives in New York_ , the headline read, each word causing her heart to sink lower and lower into her belly.

“Well, that’s what some might call fortuitous,” O’Conner said blandly, looking over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Tina replied numbly, not thinking of the case or Grindelwald at all. “Fortuitous.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Newt and Tina meet again and things don't go precisely as planned for either for them, Queenie has a secret, and Jacob is having the weirdest feelings of deja vu.


	3. Proposals and Investigations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This was a tough one to get out, partially because life decided to be difficult for a moment there. Hopefully the length of this one makes up for it.

Jacob Kowalski fiddled with his tie and hoped to God he wasn’t sweating through his suit jacket. He’d never been so nervous in his entire life and he’d fought in a damned _war_.  A waiter, with perfectly combed gray hair and spotless black suit, eyed him knowingly from the nearby bar and approached.

“Good evening sir, perhaps a brandy while you wait for your companion?” the man asked politely, waving to the empty seat across from Jacob. The restaurant, with its white table cloths, crystal glasses, and glittering chandeliers would have generally been _way_ beyond his checkbook, but tonight was a special occasion.

The thought made him a bit sick.

“That would be great,” Jacob managed, dabbing at his forehead with a napkin and eying the clock near the doors to the kitchen.

She was late. She was never late. A thousand terrible possibilities ran through his mind.  

The waiter returned a moment later, brandy in hand. “On the house, sir,” the older man said with a wink and Jacob smiled gratefully before downing the entire glass. The tiny box in his coat pocket felt like it was burning a hole through his best shirt.

 _What if she doesn’t like it?_ He wondered miserably. _What if he’d gotten the size or cut all wrong? What if she said_ no _?_

“Hello, darling,” came a sultry, sweet voice from behind him and Jacob quite literally jumped to his feet, nearly upending the table.

He felt weirdly light headed and distinctly shell-shocked, just as he always did when he looked at Queenie Goldstein, who was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was stunning in a pale pink and silver number that clung to her curves and fell past her waist in glittering waves. She wore no jewelry save a simple silver knotted ring on her right ring finger and tiny diamond earrings that glittered from between her golden curls. A dame like Queenie needed no decoration, so far as Jacob was concerned.

Not for the first time, he wondered what in the hell she was doing with a fella like him, but he’d never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The day she’d walked into his bakery was the day his entire life had changed, that much he knew for sure. Even to a man like himself, who didn’t believe in much, not after the things he’d seen, it felt like fate.

“Y-you look, well, y-you’re…” Jacob attempted and Queen giggled, stepping forward to plant a kiss smack on his lips. He vaguely wondered how he hadn’t seen her come in, as he’d strategically positioned himself to have a clear view of the front door, but it was very hard to think clearly with her so close.  

“You’re just the sweetest thing,” she cooed, as if he’d managed to say anything intelligible, and slipped past him. Jacob only barely managed to beat her to the table in order to pull her chair out for her, which earned him another tinkling laugh.

“This is a fine place, Jacob,” Queenie said, propping her chin up on her palm and giving him a dimpled smile.

Jacob sat and cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, only the best for my girl.”

Queenie blushed and ducked her head, looking at him from beneath her lashes and making Jacob feel rather warm around the collar. “You know I don’t need nothing fancy, just so long as I’m with you.”

During the war, Jacob had teased his friends who had girls back home –admittedly with some amount of jealously. He’d joked and laughed when they’d ran to collect their mail or spent hours poring over letters. Jacob, essentially, had been a fool, because there wasn’t much on God’s good Earth that would keep him from Queenie Goldstein.

Belatedly, he realized that Queenie’s eyes had welled with tears and he reached instantly for her hand. “What is it, are you alright?” he asked, to which she just laughed and gave him another dazzling smile.

“It’s nothing, you’re just a wonderful man, Jacob Kowalski,” she said with a sniffle, dashing away a tear with her finger.

It was his turn to blush, caught off guard by the sentiment, but he was saved from completely melting into his chair by the arrival of their waiter. They ordered drinks, an appetizer, and talked about their days at work, but Jacob couldn’t quite focus. The box in his coat pocket was extremely distracting.

They managed to make it to dessert before Queenie, who always seemed to know what was going on in his head, often before he did, caught him with a curious stare. “There’s clearly something on your mind, darlin’, are you alright?”

Jacob began to sweat again and fiddled with the table cloth, not quite able to meet her eyes. “Ah, no, well, I mean yes. Not exactly? I just, well-“

Queenie reached across the table and set her hand atop his, stilling his movements, and he looked up. Her face had gone very soft and her eyes were so warm he thought he might actually catch fire. “I think you oughta know that I am quite in love with you Mr. Kowalski,” she said, effectively running him forever.

Suddenly, it wasn’t at all difficult to remove the little box from his pocket, rise from his chair, and kneel at her feet. In fact, nothing had ever been easier.

Thirty minutes later, a bit warm and bubbly from the champagne, Jacob left the restaurant with Queenie’s arm in his, the ring he’d bought her glittering on her finger. It was, without a doubt, the happiest moment of his life.

Not for the first time, Jacob recalled the stranger who’d dropped his suitcase full of silver eggs –yes, _eggs_ \- along with a very odd and personalized note. Jacob was quite certain that he owed all his present happiness to the mysterious stranger and he wished he had some way of thanking him. Of expressing how much such a seemingly random act of kindness had changed his life for the better, given him hope when he’d had none.

Thinking about the stranger with the suitcase often made his head ache and tonight was no exception. Jacob adjusted his arm in Queenie’s to rub at his temple and unintentionally sent the contents of her hand bag flying.

“Christ, Queenie, I’m sorry,” he said, kneeling to help collect her scattered things.

“Oh, don’t worry, darlin’,” she said with a laugh. “I got it, don’t-“

She broke off as Jacob picked up a strange… stick? The long, cylindrical object in his hand was definitely wood, but it had been carefully shaped and polished and had a finely made silver handle. The wood felt oddly warm and… _alive_ in his hand. A sudden and terrible pain burst behind his left eye and he felt himself slump to one side, the bit of wood slipping from between his fingers.

“Jacob!” Queenie cried, rushing to his side.

Images, strange and distorted, flashed like a moving picture in his mind.  Images of strange creatures, bursts of energy, and faces that were familiar yet… foreign to him.  It was like meeting someone he’d once known well but hadn’t seen in a very long while and trying to recall their name. The truth was there, just on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

The pain and images vanished almost as suddenly as they had appeared and he found Queenie leaning over him with tears and worry in her eyes.

“A-are you alright?” she asked, helping him to sit up.

Jacob rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling well enough to be embarrassed.

“Yeah, guess I was more nervous about proposing to ya than I thought,” he said ruefully, still feeling a bit shaken as he got awkwardly back to his feet. Queenie fussed with his tie and jacket, pressing a small, soft hand to his brow and frowning.

“What was that thing, anyway?” he asked and Queenie went still for a brief moment before she shrugged, looking almost embarrassed.

“Just a-a hair… accessory my mama used to use, that’s all,” she said with a note of cheeriness that rang false in his ears.

Jacob nodded, uncertain as she steered him down the street. “Oh… interesting hair pin, never seen anything like it,” he said, to which Queenie responded with a faint rather dismissive hum.

“We should get you home,” she said, “and perhaps you should see a med- ah, doctor, I need you strong and healthy, Mr. Kowalski if I’m to be _Mrs._ Kowalski.”

Just the idea of her taking his last name made him feel tingly all over and it was almost enough to make him forget the whole strange incident and the fact that he was quite certain that Queenie had lied to him.

* * *

 

Tina stepped into the Infirmary at Ilvermorny and it was like stepping into the past, leaving her momentarily frozen in time. O’Conner moved past her and took off his hat, peering into the pristine room of white marble that held two dozen beds against opposing sides of the long room, several of which were shrouded by floating curtains that drifted slightly in an unseen breeze.

“Well, it’s been a few years, hasn’t it?” he muttered dryly, smoothing his hair back. He looked tired, she noted, circles under his generally bright eyes and a bit of pale gold stubble along his jaw.

Tina smirked a bit. “I was here rather a lot, at least my first year of Quidditch.”

They moved toward the large, presently vacant desk at the back of the room, their boots scuffing loudly across the floor. She wondered if Medic Hurst was still the Warden, recalling several rather unpleasant memories; the man had been quite odious.

“I remember,” O’Conner said quietly and Tina frowned in confusion.

“You remember what?”

O’Conner looked a bit sheepish. “Remember you getting hurt a few times during your third year. Broke an ankle, didn’t you?”

Tina was rather stunned he remembered. O’Conner had been several years ahead of her in school, popular, handsome, one of the top students in his class. The sort of boy Tina had perpetually been invisible to, consistently out shone by her charming and beautiful younger sister.

“Uh yeah, I did. I was in the infirmary for a day or two that time, mostly because I also hit my head rather hard.”

O’Conner nudged her with a shoulder and a smile. “You always were a tough old broad, weren’t you Goldie?”

Tine snorted and rolled her eyes. “That’s me. Good old Tina, can take a hit and is too stupid to stay down,” her tone took on a bitterness that she couldn’t quite help. Many of her classmates had teased her for being so boyish and tough, the other girls giggling behind their hands when she’d turn up for class with a bruised cheek or hair wild from Quidditch practice.

There was nothing quite like adolescent ridicule, it was the sort of thing that stuck with a person, no matter how much time passed.

O’Conner frowned slightly, that intense look in his eyes again, and he opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Medic Hurst. There was a deep scowl on the older man’s heavily wrinkled face and he looked almost exactly as Tina remembered him.

“Mr. Hurst, I’m Head Auror Porp-“

“I remember you Goldstein,” Medic Hurst interrupted gruffly, looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes. “And you, Mr. O’Conner. You were quite the trouble maker for a few years, as I recall.”

O’Conner cleared his throat and shifted his hat between his hands. “Yes, well, I imagine I was as young and stupid as most young men.”

Medic Hurst huffed and crossed his arms over his barreled chest.  “I suppose you’re here to talk to Ester Albright, then?”

Tina nodded, taking a notebook and quill from her pocket, and sharing a quick glance with Larry. “Uh, yes, but we’d like to ask you a few questions first, if that is alright?”

The man grunted and then sighed, shaking his head. “Afraid there isn’t much I can say other than I’ve never seen any other case quite like this. She’s some queer markings on her chest and around her mouth, we believe some dark spell or perhaps spirit may have temporarily taken possession of her. There’s none of the typical signs we might expect from someone who’s been under the Imperius curse, particularly because she very clearly recalls everything that happened.”

A flash of excitement and Tina lifted her head. “She remembers who did this to her, then?”

Another grunt. “Afraid not, said she was sleeping when she felt a burning in her chest and apparently lost all control of her faculties.”

Tina canted her head, quill going still against the page. “You don’t believe her?”

Medic Hurst’s frown deepened, and he glanced behind him toward the furthest concealed bed. “Oh, I believe someone cursed the girl, but I also believe there’s something she’s hiding.”

Tina considered this for a moment, making a quick scribble in her notebook before tucking it away and back into her coat pocket. “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Hurst, if we could have a moment-“

“There’s more,” the older man said brusquely, and took a step closer, lowering his voice. “I’ve been giving her potions, mostly to help revitalize and lift her spirits, but, well, they aren’t working.”

Tina frowned and O’Conner asked, “What do you _mean_ they aren’t working?”

Medic Hurst fixed him with a glare. “I mean just what I said, boy. The potions aren’t having any effect on her.”

“And why do you think that is?” Tina pressed, not at all sure what to make of such information.

“If I knew _that_ I would have told you straight away. And I thought you Aurors were meant to be _smart_ ,” the man replied just as the door to the Infirmary opened and a boy with a rather comically enlarged head was escorted in by a Professor Tina didn’t recognize.

“You can speak to her, if you wish, but don’t expect much. She’s hardly talking, not even to her parents or friends,” Medic Hurst said before he was distracted by a loud bang.  “Gibbons! If you smash any of my vials with your gigantic cranium I’ll personally insure you spend the rest of your time at Ilvermorny cleaning the bedpans!”

O’Conner snorted a bit in amusement and Tina elbowed him as they made their way to the bed at the very end of the room. It was settled beneath a wide arched window and the thick linin curtains were pulled tightly closed.

Tina cleared her throat, able to make out the silhouette of the person within. “Miss Albright, my name is Porpentina Goldstein, I’m an Auror, my partner and I were hoping we might ask you a few questions.”

There was a very long silence, long enough that Tina reached hesitantly for the curtains before they were yanked forcefully aside. Ester Albright was a pretty girl, with a heart shaped face, olive skin, and large brown eyes, but her hair was something of a mess and her expression was distant, perhaps a bit hostile.

“My mother said I would have to talk to you,” the girl said by way of greeting, and turned her head to stare blankly at the opposite side of the bed, which remained shielded by the curtains. With her head angled, Tina could see the faint swirls of gray around her lips, like smoke trapped beneath her skin.

Tina used her wand to summon a chair and sat, exchanging another glance with O’Conner, who had his arms crossed over his chest, brow furrowed in thought.

“Yes, though I promise it won’t take very long. We only want to know what happened to you, who did this to you.”

The girl scoffed, burrowing into her blankets. “Maybe I just lost my mind, maybe I’m just crazy and decided to lash out.”

“Ester that’s-“

“It’s what some of the Professor’s think, I heard them talking. They think I cast this curse on myself,” she gestured to the gray and black swirls that peaked just above her hospital gown, darker than those about her lips.

Tina shook her head. “I’m sure no one truly believes that, Ester. What happened to you was inexcusable and I will do everything in my power to make sure that whoever did it is brought to justice, alright?”

Ester glanced in their direction for a moment, uncertainty in her eyes, before looking away again. “What do you want to know? How I killed poor Rick? How I dream every single night of how the knife felt in my hand as I drew it across his throat? How something inside me, a voice, made me write words and shapes in blood?”

A single tear traced down Ester’s cheek and Tina’s heart broke for her. “Is there anything you can tell us about what you felt, about a burning that Medic Hurst mentioned, what that voice sounded or felt like?”

Ester stared at her hands, loosely curled in her lap atop the blankets. Tina remembered those hands from the Pukwudgie’s memory; one curled into a claw, the other holding a gleaming blade. She couldn’t quite suppress a shiver.

“It felt like my heart was going to explode,” the girl said so softly that Tina had to lean forward in order to hear her. “Like I was going to die, and then… there was a voice… sort of dark and slippery, it felt like-like _mud_ on my hands, all over my body. It felt wrong, dirty,” Ester’s voice broke, “I didn’t like it and I tried to make it leave bu-but it was too strong. It told me to get up and cast a charm to make sure the other girls in my dorm didn’t wake up. Then it had me walk the halls, I tried to stop it, I really did, but it just l-laughed at me. Called me a M-Mudblood and told me the stop my whining, that it would all be over soon.” Tina resisted the urge to take the poor girl’s hand, and gripped the knees of her slacks tightly instead. Ester went on, clearly caught in the tide of her misery, “It made me stalk poor Rick through the halls, it was so _excited_ , it summoned some sort of k-knife and I fought so hard, hard enough that I almost beat it I think. The voice was so a-angry after that, said it would kill me, cook my brain and burst my h-heart. And then, I- there was nothing I could do. Nothing!”

Ester dissolved into horrible sobs and Medic Hurst appeared, looking furious. “That’s enough questions for now, Ms. Goldstein, Miss Albright’s condition is delicate and she doesn’t need you upsetting her any further.”

Tina stood awkwardly, legs numb as she nodded dumbly, not at all certain what to make of what she’d just heard. Visions of the day in the subway tunnel three years ago with a frightened, abused boy made her blood run cold. “You’re right, I apologize for distressing her. We-We’ll go now,” she said and took a mechanical step away.

“But-“ O’Conner protested before Tina took him by the arm and turned him sharply, all but dragging him after her.

“I hope you have some ideas, Goldie,” he grumbled to her as they made a beeline toward the headmistress’s office, drawing wide-eyed stares from students in the halls.

She swallowed down a thick lump in her throat, thinking of the newspaper article from that morning, and of the one man in all the world who might have some idea what was going on. “Y-yeah,” she said absently, “me too.”

* * *

 

Newt rose just before dawn, having retreated from the opulence of his hotel room and chosen instead to sleep on the cot inside his suitcase.

Moppy, the Kneazel, butted his furry head against Newt’s face with a loud purr that vibrated through Newt’s entire body and he patted the creature’s head sleepily as he sat up. He’d had nightmares, _again_ , but couldn’t quite recall what they’d been about. He could only remember the feeling of being hunted, helpless and unprepared. Tina had been there, holding his hand, leading him away from the darkness that pursued them.

Newt groaned and rubbed at the back of his neck, attempting to banish the lingering sensation of being watched, and tried to remember what in the bloody hell he was meant to do that day. Nothing enjoyable, of that he was certain.

He dressed, made himself some tea, and went about feeding the creatures currently occupying his suitcase. Caring for his friends always managed to clear his head, and he was in a much better mood an hour later.

“Good morning,” came a voice as Newt fed the Mooncalves while thinking idly of how he might contact Tina and what on earth he might say to her. He only barley managed to suppress a girlish scream as he whirled to find Leta standing behind him, one hand pressed daintily to her lips to contain a smile.

“G-good morning, Leta. You startled me,” he said. In truth he’d all but forgotten about her.

“When you didn’t answer my knock I was a bit worried so I came looking for you. Took me a while to figure out where you’d disappeared to,” she told him, looking about her with amazement. “This is quite a bit of impressive magic, Newt, however did you manage it?”

Newt flushed a bit, not used to being complimented so readily as a Mooncalf bumped him impatiently in the leg. “Well, I had quite a bit of help from a witch in India, to be honest. She did most of the leg work, I handled some of the environmental particulars. The rainforest bits were particularly hard to get right, the temperature just wasn’t quite as it should be and facilitating the precipitation needed in order to inspire rain proved to be quite the trick-“

 Belatedly, Newt realized he was rambling and that Leta’s gaze had taken on a rather glazed over quality. He cleared his throat. “Would you perhaps like some breakfast? I’m nearly done here.”

Leta smiled, a charming dimple forming in one cheek and quite literally bounced with approval. “Breakfast would be lovely, I’ll have it delivered to your rooms.”

Breakfast arrived just as Newt stepped out from the suitcase and Leta waved her wand to summon over a small table and chair for them and set it before a massive arched window. The day outside was bright and lively, Muggles passing about on their business below and the massive buildings an impressive frame in the backdrop. New York was much like London yet… different, younger, more hopeful, perhaps.

“You look far away, Newt,” Leta said, buttering a bit of toast and setting it on his plate. He detested toast but took a bite anyway.

“Ah, yes sorry. Had trouble sleeping is all.”

Leta frowned and reached across the table to press the back of her hand to his forehead. Newt sat very still, not at all sure what to do with himself. “Well, you don’t feel warm. Perhaps you need a potion? Something to pick you up?”

Newt coughed and shook his head. “No, no, I’m fine. Ah, the paper!” He proclaimed in a desperate attempt to change the subject but was brought up short by the front page headline.

“Oh!” Leta said excitedly, though Newt barely heard her. She reached across the table and tapped at the contents column. “You’re in the paper Newt! Page four it says, let me-“ she broke off as Newt all but slammed his hand down onto the table to hold the paper in place.

 _Grindlewald Loose!_ The headline read. _Auror Department Has Few Answers._ Below the headline was a large picture taken within MACUSA, on the main stair he could vividly recall climbing three years prior. Standing behind the podium, as camera bulbs flashed, was Tina Goldstein.

* * *

 

Steeling herself, Tina knocked on the President’s office.

“Enter,” came the deep voice of Picuquery’s secretary and the door swung open.

Tina strode into the room as Mr. Harrison squinted over the rim of his spectacles at her. A venerable tornado of files was being sorted by the absent flick of his wand into near thirty filing cabinets that dominated the sitting room.

“Ah, Madam Auror Goldestein,” Mr. Harrison greeted her with a small, rather bored bow of his head. He was a short, heavy set man with thinning brown hair and rather poor taste in dress robes, but was kind enough, if not rather indifferent in his manners. “She should have a few minutes for you,” he went on, wand still waving, “she’s a meeting with the Foreign Dignitaries in twenty minutes, as I am sure you’re aware.”

Tina nodded and guided her hat and coat to the coat rack near the door behind her with a wave of her wand. She too would have to attend the meeting, and it was one she was decidedly not looking forward to. “Thanks, Mr. Harrison, I will only need a moment.”

Mr. Harrison fluttered his friend hand, clearly having lost interest, and Tina proceeded into the next room where she found the President seated at her desk, hunched over a large file. The President’s office was a large round room which was supposedly modeled after the No-Maj Oval Office at the White House.

“That you, Goldstein?” the President asked in a rather weary voice. Tina could not imagine what sort of pressure the other woman must be under, and was grateful that for all her burdens, it was not she who bore the brunt of their community’s weight. Why Picquery had ran for a second term, Tina could not understand.

Tina cleared her throat, standing with her hands clasped behind her back. “Ah, yes ma’am, I was hoping I could have a moment of your time.”

Picquery set her quill aside with a sigh and reclined back in her chair with her fingers tented on the desk before her. “I hope you have good news for me, we are in dire need of it.”

Tina straightened her shoulders and tried to banish her sudden fit of insecurity. She always felt so small and foolish in this office, especially in front of this imperious woman.

“I, well, not exactly. I’ve just come from Illvermorny, I interviewed the girl there-“

“I thought I made it quite clear to you, Ms. Goldstein, that Grindelwald is our main if not _only_ concern at this juncture,” Picquery interrupted coolly.

“Ah, yes, Madam President, but I believe the two cases are somehow linked.”

Picquery pursed her lips for a long moment. “Very well, go on.”

“Yes, o-of course. Well, Auror O’Conner and I interviewed a Miss. Ester Albright early this morning, and we’ve determined that she may have been possessed by some sort of creature…”

“Creature? What manner of creature is capable of possessing a young witch and forcing her to commit murder?” Picquery demanded, leaning forward.

“W-we aren’t sure, Madam President,” she managed, though in her heart she knew what had likely taken hold of poor Miss. Albright. “But well, I think we know who might be able to help.” Tina removed the newspaper page she’d taken from Devons that morning and set it on the desk.

* * *

 

“Sugar?” Leta asked, drawing Newt from his thoughts. He was terribly distracted and worried. Grindelwald’s name was like a bell tolling in his mind, drowning out every other sound. The Ministry had to be going mad, he was sure.

“What?” he asked, blinking at the woman across the table as she pursed her lips at him. He was being rude, he realized with a flush.

They’d claimed a small table at the back of the café in the hotel, taking a small moment for tea before Newt was meant to discuss a special edition of his book that several American publishers were interested in producing. He could think of nothing he’d rather do less, however. It all very rather silly, in light of recent events. He wanted to see Tina, he wanted to find her and see if she was alright, to apologize for his foolish silence and his extended absence. He’d been a coward, he saw that now. Too afraid of his own feelings, after everything that happened, after-

“I asked if you’d like some sugar,” Leta repeated patiently. Newt felt a faint pang of guilt, he hadn’t been a very talkative or entertaining companion.

“Ah, sure, one sugar would be lovely” he said, though he rather preferred his tea plain, forgoing even milk, much to many of his countrymen’s dismay.

Leta smiled and dropped a sugar cube into his tea, waving her wand to get his spoon stirring. Newt took a tentative sip, trying not to cringe at the sweetness of it.

A house elf appeared at Newt’s elbow, causing him to sputter loudly into his cup. “An urgent letter for you, sir,” the creature said, holding out silver platter.

Feeling uncomfortable as he always did around house elves, disturbed by their servitude, Newt took the letter. The paper was very fine, his name scrawled in perfect cursive, and was sealed with a nondescript glob of wax.

Frowning, Newt slipped the nail of his thumb along the wax and popped the letter open.

 _Mr. Scamander_ , it read, _I am writing to you in hopes that you may be able to help us once more during a difficult and trying time. I am certain you have seen the headlines and can appreciate the current political climate we are in. In times such as these, it is difficult to know who to trust, which is why I am requesting your help and hope you will appreciate the sensitive nature of the investigation of which I am hoping you can aid. As I am sure you are amiable, please return to your room as soon as possible and break the seal at the bottom of this letter, it will allow my Aurors to reach you._

_Regards,_

_Picquery_

Fifteen minutes later Newt stood with Leta, who had flat refused to leave his presence, nearly frozen with uncertainty. He was meant to be in a meeting in a moment, promoting his book, meeting with publishers and even the MACUSA Secretary of Magical Creatures.  The letter could be hoax, though he thought it rather unlikely, and even if it wasn’t, he hadn’t particularly enjoyed his previous involvement with MACUSA.  But all he could think of in that moment was Tina and that this request might be his ticket to see her again.

“Newt, what in Merlin’s name is going _on_ ,” Leta demanded once more, and Newt drew in a deep breath.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to cancel our dinner plans this evening, Leta,” he told her before cutting his nail across the edifice of an eagle at the bottom of the letter in his hand.

The letter immediately burst into flame and there was a very loud pop as two people Apparated into the room.

 “Mr. Scamander,” Tina said in greeting, standing tall and proud, dark eyes shining just as he remembered.

“T-Tina,” Newt managed, feeling a bit like he’d fallen off a broom and was still reeling from the shock of it, “It is lovely to see you again, I’ve just arrived in town, I’d hoped to come find you l-later this afternoon-”

Tina’s expression darkened and he saw the hurt flash before it was quickly driven away. Newt’s heart sank. “I’m afraid I haven’t much time for pleasantries, this is a matter of national security.”

“Ah, of course, of course, we-“

“Newt!” Leta interrupted sternly, “Who are these people?”

Newt rubbed at the back of his neck, looking for the first time at Tina’s companion, a tall handsome man who was eyeing Newt suspiciously. Tina turned and Newt could tell by her expression that she recognized Leta and he realized with painful clarity how their present situation must look.

“T-this is Miss. Porpentina Goldstein and I don’t know who-“

“O’Connor, Auror Larry O’Conner,” the large man said brusquely, glancing at Tina who had a stony, rather distant look on her face. Newt wasn’t at all certain what to do with himself, a little taken aback by his emotional reaction at seeing Miss. Goldstein again.  Mr. O’Conner drew his attention, “Mr. Scamander, as Auror Goldstein said, we haven’t much time for pleasantries. We need you to come with us, straight away.”

“Go where?” Leta demanded, cheeks coloring with anger. “He hasn’t done anything, you brutish American’s!”

“I’m afraid it is a very delicate matter and MACUSA requires Mr. Scamander’s expertise,” Mr. O’Conner said with clear impatience. “ _Now_ , if you please, Mr. Scamander,” the other man finished, holding out a hand. Newt glanced at Tina, but she was looking at a point on the floor, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Ah, yes, I am, well, pleased to be of assistance,” Newt managed.

“I’m coming too, then,” Leta proclaimed.

“Out of the question,” Tina snapped, causing both Leta and Newt to flinch. “This is a very dangerous and sensitive case. We cannot have foreign tourists getting in the way of our investigation.”

Newt had never heard Tina speak so unkindly to anyone and frowned.

“How dare you-“ Leta began taking a threatening step forward, halting only when Newt held up his hand.

“I’m sorry Leta, I will only be gone for a short while, I promise,” he told her, feeling guilty as she deflated.

 

* * *

 

 _He’s with Leta. He traveled here with her. I’m such an idiot_ , was the litany that played on repeat in her mind as Tina stood stiffly at O’Conner’s side while they led Newt into Illvermorny’s infirmary.

It was an entirely inappropriate train of thought considering the gravity of their current situation, still, she hadn’t quite anticipated how seeing him again would affect her. The same wild hair, the spray of charming freckles, and the brightness of his eyes. He looked just as she’d remembered him and it hurt more than she cared to admit, even to herself.

Ester Albright sat emotionless and still in the hospital bed when they approached, clothed in a white dressing gown with her hair braided over one shoulder. Her head was turned to look out the nearby window and into the courtyard below where the other students were hurrying to their classes or collecting in groups, chatting excitedly. Laughter and voices wafted in from the hallway outside and Tina was almost tempted to cast a silencing charm if only to shield the poor girl from the rest of the world. It seemed unfair that the world could move on, joyous and indifferent, without her. Tina knew what that felt like.

“H-hello, Ms. Albright, I was wondering if I might perform a brief examination,” Newt said uncertainly.

Ester turned her head slightly, gave them all an empty once over, and shrugged her shoulders slightly. Tina gave Newt a slight nod of encouragement when he turned to look back at her.

Hesitating for another long moment, Newt took a deep breath and leaned forward, peering at the markings above the girl’s heart for a long moment, saying nothing. He turned to Medic Hurst who hovered at the other side of Ester’s bed. “Have you her wand, Mr. Hurst?’

The older man nodded and, with a deep frown of disapproval, went toward his office. The girl seemed to come alive at mention of her wand and she shook her head vigorously, tears brimming in her eyes. “No, I don’t want it!”

Newt cringed in sympathy. “I must be sure, Miss Albright, please understand-“

“No _you_ don’t understand,” the girl said, shifting further away from him in the bed, her voice going rather shrill. “I won’t touch it. I won’t! You don’t understand, I-I-“ her voice broke on a sob and Newt, empathy practically radiating from him, reached out and took her hand. His kindness touched Tina just as it had three years ago, only now it made her rather sad.

“I’m so very sorry. I do understand, truly. I would not ask it of you, but we really must be sure or we will not be able to help you further.”

Ester shook her head, tears spilling down her pale cheeks, and she seemed to collapse into herself. “No one can help me, Mr. Scamander,” she whispered, brokenly.

Tina stepped forward, alarmed and confused. “Newt, what-“

Medic Hurst returned, a slim wand in hand, cutting Tina off as Newt relieved the other man of the object and held it out to the poor girl in the bed before him. She seemed almost afraid to look at it, turning her head away, slim shoulders shaking with suppressed agony. It was painful to watch, even for Tina who had seen her fair share of grieving, damaged people.

“Please, Miss Albright, I promise I will do everything in my power to help you, and I can assure you that Aurors Goldstein and O’Conner will do the same,” Newt told her in a fervent whisper.

Ester sniffled, glancing at him sidelong for a moment before reaching out one shaking hand to reclaim her wand. A sob, terrible and hollow, broke from her as her hand collapsed to the bed, limp and unwilling and Newt stood, bracing a hand on her shoulder. “Please, Miss Al- _Ester_ , it is very important we fully understand what happened to you, it is the only way we can hope to help you or anyone else.”

Shaking with silent sobs, Ester lifted her wand and said, with a wave, “L-lumos.”

Nothing happened. No light, no spark, no touch of magical energy and a cold wave of understanding washed over Tina even before Newt gently took the wand from Ester, who’d collapsed into sobs once more, and said, looking at no one but Tina, “It appears as though Miss Albright has had her magic stolen from her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: A kidnapping, a Kneazel, and a kiss


End file.
